The Night I Got Lucky (22 page)

I nodded.

“Come in. Please.” He hurried around the counter toward me. I drew back in surprise.

He halted. “I’m sorry.”

I was stil too shocked to say anything.

A door slammed at the back of the store, and a woman came into the front room. Lil ian. Her hair wasn’t as frizzy as I’d thought. She also wore jeans over her wide hips and a thin, light blue sweater. “Brandon, we need to fix that sink again,” she said. “Oh, hel o there,” she cal ed when she saw me.

“Good morning.” These seemed to be the only words I knew how to utter.

Lil ian looked from Brandon to me and back again.

“Lil,” he said. “This is my daughter, Bil y.”

Outside the store, in the back, there was a smal cement courtyard occupied by an iron table painted mint-green and a overabundance of flowers and plants.

“Lil ian loves gardening,” my father said. He gestured to the table.

I nodded. I was stil having trouble finding words. I hadn’t expected him to be so welcoming. I didn’t think I would have the odd desire to fal into his arms and ask why he left. The courtyard was shaded and cool, the sky sunny and bright blue above us. The place was calming, and that made the entire experience come into sharper focus—
this is my father, my
dad, he’s right here.

We both sat. I pushed my chair back from the table a few inches. At last, my mind started working again. “How did you recognize me?”

He smiled. It was a rueful smile that sent deep creases from his eyes, down his tanned cheeks. “I wish I could tel you I’d always know one of my girls.”

I bristled at the term “my girls.” How dare he?

“But,” he continued, “the truth is that I’ve kept my eyes on you al .”

“Your eyes?” I crossed my legs, and wrapped my arms tight around my body.

“Years ago, I paid someone to find you.”

“Do you mean you had someone watch us? Like a detective or something?”

He nodded.

I huffed. “I can’t believe you. You take off, you don’t give my mother a cent of money, and yet you had us watched?”

His eyes roamed my face. He opened his mouth to speak, but right then Lil ian came outside with two teacups on saucers. They were mismatched, and one of the saucers was chipped.

The saucer rattled as she placed one cup in front of me.

“Do you take sugar?” Lil ian said. Her voice seemed a little high, and I realized she was nervous for her husband.

“No, thank you.”

Lil ian sent my father a tight, optimistic smile.

He met her eyes. “Thanks, Lil.”

“I’l just be in the shop.” She gestured toward the store.

The screened door slapped as she went inside, a summer sound. I took a sip of the tea.
Soothing Chamomile,
it said on the tag attached to the tea bag. I hoped it worked like gangbusters.

“I real y had no right to keep tabs on you girls,” my father said.

“No, you didn’t.”

He grimaced. “It wasn’t until about eight years ago that I did it. I’d just married Lil ian, and she had changed my life.” He smiled a little now. “She changed me for the better. But I knew I couldn’t contact you three. I’d given up that chance a long time ago. I felt like I had no right. And yet I had to know if you were okay. So I had someone find you and let me know. And I got to see how you looked now that you’d grown up.”

“You had them take pictures of us?”

He gave a short, chagrined nod. He leaned back as if afraid of a blow.

I shuddered a little and looked away from him. I couldn’t help but wonder where such pictures had been taken. Eight years ago, I was spending most of my time trol ing the bars and nursing hangovers. Possibly, there was a photo of me coming out of a drugstore with a massive bottle of Advil. Or maybe later, one of Chris and me. I got a pang of regret with the thought. I wished desperately that he was here with me now, helping me navigate this conversation with this strange man who was responsible for my existence.

“I apologize,” my father said. “I shouldn’t have invaded your privacy. It’s unforgivable, but I just needed to make sure you were al right. I knew I didn’t deserve to ever talk to you girls or be a part of your life, but I had to know. Can you understand that?”

Like I had to know about you,
I thought. But I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “Not when you didn’t care whether we were al right for so long,” I said.

“I always cared.”

I barked out a disbelieving laugh.

“Bil y, it’s true. I was an ungrateful shit. I was a lousy husband and father, but I always, always cared.”

I opened my mouth, ready to let him have it.

He held up his hand as if to stop my protests. “Please. I know it didn’t seem like it, but that’s real y true.”

I crossed my arms. “You have a very odd way of showing it.”

My father pushed his teacup away, and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. His eyes searched my face again. “You’ve grown up beautiful y. Your mother did an excel ent job.”

Something about the softness of his voice put a hard feeling in my throat that I had to swal ow down. “Why did you leave?” I said, my tone just as soft.

He sighed. He looked down. After a long moment, he spoke again. “I was having a very difficult time after your mother and I got married. We hadn’t planned to get married, but she was pregnant.” He paused and sat back. “I’m sorry, did you know that?”

“Did I know that you got married because she was pregnant with Dustin? Yes, I did. And if you think I’m going to feel sorry for you…” I trailed off, shaking my head.

“No, absolutely not, but you asked, so I want to tel you why I did what I did.” He took a deep breath. “I wasn’t ready to get married. I was just starting out in my family’s business, and I was living in downtown Chicago and enjoying it tremendously. When your mom got pregnant with Dustin, that al screeched to a halt. I wanted to embrace our new life in the suburbs, but being the shal ow person I was, I was always wishing I was somewhere else.”

“Then why did you have more kids?”

“Your mother wanted to. And I did, too. I loved Dustin, and I thought if we had more kids, maybe I would get used to being a family man and become content.”

I thought of the male names he’d given us al . “You were hoping for boys.”

He nodded. “I was a ridiculous fool, but yes. I was.”

“So you got two more girls, and then you decided to take off.”

He shook his head. “It wasn’t like that. I felt like I was doing nothing but making everyone miserable. Your mother wasn’t happy because I wasn’t happy. One day, I snapped. I just real y snapped. I’d started drinking too much, and your mother complained about it, and…” He shook his head as if reliving the situation and stil finding it hard to believe. “I was on my fifth whiskey of the night. Your mother asked me to stop. She was always very polite.” He made a wry laugh. “She was standing over me while I sat in front of the TV.”

I thought of the blue recliner that no one used but my father. It had sat there after he left, reminding us al of him. Final y, when we moved to the apartment by the hospital my mother gave it away.

“I was so angry at her,” my father continued. “I knew she was right, but I wanted the whiskey to take away the hard edges. I just wanted her to get away from me. So I stood and grabbed her. I screamed at her. I shook her. I wanted to hit her.” His words had been coming faster, but now he paused, and his shoulders dropped. “I knew that night that I had to leave. I thought if I left, she could be happy with someone else. She could move on.”

“You left her with no money!” I said this loudly, breaking the calm of the courtyard. I thought of my mother peering out windows, waiting for my father’s car. I thought of our move from the white house with the columns to that crappy apartment.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” he said. “I went to L.A.” He waved a hand, as if that part of his life was hard to explain. “I always meant to support you girls, but I lost a lot of money and led too high a lifestyle. There were other women. A lot of them.”

“You abandoned us. That’s nice. You were…what? Maybe doing drugs and partying with the gals, while we were scraping pennies together?”

He nodded again. “I—” his voice seemed to break. He cleared his throat. “It’s inconceivable to me now, that I acted how I did. I was such a mess. And after a while, I just erased the thoughts of my old life. I would hardly let myself think of you girls or your mom.”

“That’s it? You
erased
us?”

A gust of wind swept through the courtyard, ruffling his hair. “I’m not explaining this wel . Probably because there is no good explanation for my behavior.”

“Apparently not.”

We sat, both of us staring at the table. My father drank from his teacup.

I lifted my face and looked at him. “Did I have anything to do with it?”

His gaze met mine; his eyebrows drew close together. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I was the last child, and I’ve always wondered if I somehow pushed you over the edge.”

“Oh, hel , Bil y. No. Absolutely not. You were a wonderful, amazing little girl. You seem to be an amazing woman. It was me who was the problem. I hated myself back then. I hated myself when I left, too. In my own eyes, nothing could redeem me. I was horrible and I knew it, and I knew without a doubt that you girls were better off without me. Or at least I convinced myself that that was the case. It was only when I met Lil ian about ten years ago that I stopped the booze and I stopped running through life. I was able to look at what I’d done, what I’d been like.”

“She seems nice,” I said grudgingly.

“She’s wonderful. She was my massage therapist in Los Angeles. That’s how we met.” He chuckled. “She got me to see what a jerk I was. She got me sober, which wasn’t easy. We moved out here six years ago, and opened up this store the next year.…” His words died away. “I have to say this to you.” He paused and looked at me intently. “Bil y, I am sorry. I’m truly sorry.”

I said nothing.

“An apology doesn’t help, does it?” he said.

“Not much.” I paused. “Maybe a little.”

I took a sip of tea, and I noticed him glancing at my hands.

“You’re married, right?” he asked.

The teacup rattled as I set it down. “I don’t know anymore.”

Somehow, someway, I ended up tel ing my father about Evan and that night at the party. The tale rushed from my mouth. Other than Chris, I’d told no one what I’d done, but I realized now that I needed a confessor. That such a person would be my deadbeat father was beyond bizarre and yet somehow strangely right.

He nodded while I talked, his expression one of rapt attention, but his face lacked judgment, which kept me talking.

“I can’t believe I did it,” I said, as I came to the end. “I’m so ashamed.”

“Shame and regret,” he said shaking his head a little. “They’re the most insidious of emotions. I know them al too wel . And what I’ve learned is that eventual y they’l devour you if you let them.”

“I want to be devoured by them.”

“You want to be punished?”

I nodded.

“Oh, sweetheart.” His voice was fil ed with sadness. “Did you tel your husband?”

I nodded again.

“Wel , then you’re being punished, I would guess.”

“I deserve it.”

He didn’t respond at first. Then he said, “Do you want your marriage to work?”

“Yes.” My voice cracked a little. “God, yes. He’s such a good man. And I love him. I real y do.”

“You’l have to fight for it. I wish I had.”

I met his eyes. They were brown, like mine. “Were you having an affair when you left us?”

“I was having an affair with myself. I was a selfish bastard. But I wasn’t involved with another woman until I moved to L.A.”

I took a sip of the tea that had grown cool. There seemed to be nothing else to say just then. A breeze rustled the fronds of a large plant next to the table. A few birds flew overhead, chirping.

“Do you like music?” my father asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Live music. Do you like seeing live music?”

I felt a burst of something like hope in my chest. “I do. I love it.”

He grinned. “Me, too. There’s a great acoustic guitarist playing tonight down the street. Wil you stay? Maybe meet Lil and me?”

“I’d like that.”

I left Cover to Cover with a lilt in my step, glancing around the town. Brick-front clothing shops, cafés and stores pushed tight together. A few moms with kids ambled down the street. A jogger trotted by. I smiled at everyone, feeling lighter than I had before and more clear-headed, as if the skies had opened above me for the first time in months. It had been only four weeks since Blinda had given me the frog, and yet I’d been through what seemed like a few years of changes. Now, after finding my dad and hearing him say he was sorry, I felt like I’d knocked something off a large emotional checklist. And we were going out for music that night! I was seeing my father.

My delight at the situation slowed my steps. That I should be so excited about this potential relationship struck me as pathetic. After al , this was a man who had abandoned a wife and three daughters. Why was I letting him off the hook so easy?

Weighted now rather than light, I trudged back to my room at the New Sheridan Hotel. It had a large, carved Victorian bed and a red velvet Victorian-style chair. I dragged the chair to the window, bringing my cel phone with me. Outside my window, the mountains looked like hunks of gleaming gray granite with occasional outcroppings of green and a few snowcaps up high. A beautiful vista, but maybe my time in this town was over. Maybe it was time to go home.

I lifted up the phone and dialed the airlines.

I gave my reservation number and mentioned the fact that my flight to O’Hare wasn’t leaving until the next morning. “But I’d like to get a flight today,” I said.

“Okay, let’s see what we have,” the agent said. “Hmm, it doesn’t look good. You could try standby on the two flights left to Denver, but they’re already overbooked. You’re better off going tomorrow.”

I hung up the phone, wondering what to do. I stood and went to the smal writing desk. In the top drawer was a book detailing activities in Tel uride. I couldn’t leave until tomorrow, and I had hours before I was supposed to meet my father, something I wasn’t even sure I wanted to do now. I’d found him and I’d spoken to him. I’d gone so far as to ask him why he’d left. I’d done what I came to do. What was the point of making nice and seeing him again? He would probably never be a part of my life.